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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28804935">End Game</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamFiction/pseuds/MadamFiction'>MadamFiction</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:01:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>744</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28804935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamFiction/pseuds/MadamFiction</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>End Game</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Our minds work in very different ways, sometimes I think it’s in a “two halves of a whole” type of way, other times I think we’re different shapes altogether. I try to remember what I was thinking about when you mention your own ponderings to me. Your mind working out some physics idea that I don’t quite grasp while I had been following some made-up dialogue in my head. You’re thinking about the way society works and I was thinking about what color high-lighter I was going to use for World History. It’s not that I’m dumb or that I don’t think academically, I just indulge in what’s most entertaining. Before I met you “Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain.” But now I realize that maybe I think more like everyone else than I thought, that annoys me. I don’t enjoy being normal or trivial, sometimes I worry you see me that way.</p><p>I don’t see you. I can’t remember what you look like. Even though I spoke to you a little over a month ago, I can’t recall the details of your face. I can remember objectively how you described yourself, but I can’t picture it. Maybe for the better.  You apoligized for hurting me but “For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.” That’s what I don’t understand about people, they hand out their trust and affection and dreams to anyone who gives them the time of day and act surprised when it comes to bite them in the ass. I was always a little bit wary about you, your demeanor too rough, words too harsh, mind too dull for me to really extend my trust. Two many people assume I was completely innocent in that situation. Yes it hurt me, but I took advantage of the situations to hurt you two. You extended your trust and I stamped on your heart until it bled on the floor. There was always this oil in my blood but you gave me the match. I can’t stop the fire now. I’m coming back for round two.</p><p>Committing to someone is like running one of those races where you tie your leg to the other person and then go hopping across the field like a pair of fools. It's ineffective and makes everyone involved look stupid. It's fun for a bit until someone stumbles and sends you both crashing into the ground, unable to get back up without cutting the rope. But it progresses far beyond that, people become mindlessly enslaved to one another. Willing to do whatever it takes to keep them around, not for the sake of the relationship but for the sake of their selfish wants and needs. Like Anakin, killing those around him in order to keep Padme alive, not because he loved her but because he was afraid to bear life alone. Inevitably he killed her too. People will chase after a fabled forever, hoping it will cure their sick hearts when it only serves to be a slow poison. I suppose I can be quite a downer on love, romance, soulmates, the whole lot. In fact, I'm the kind of person to claim I've never been in love. And I haven't. But I have been obsessed, enthralled, wound up in temporary emotions to distract from my real problems. But they never last, because I don't love people I just use them and discard them when they become too dependant...as dependant as I am. “When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love.” Love, purity, bliss, ignorance, it’s all a lie and it disgusts me. I love lies but this one is of no taste. Yet here I am writing about it, and to the person who probably hates it more than me. Is it to feel validated in my disgust or is it to validate your own disgust? Maybe I hate the foolish way people rip out their hearts for anyone who spares them a second glance because I do the same. Not out of love, but out of the same selfish desire to be adored as everyone else. “Look to the sky, look to yourself and remember: we are only God’s echoes and God is Narcissus.”</p>
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